


in too deep

by vengefulvicious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Face-Fucking, Facials, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, is it weird to get turned on by your own porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vengefulvicious/pseuds/vengefulvicious
Summary: Dean’s jealousy and possessive behaviour have been reaching an all-time high lately, and at this point, Cas is just fucking sick of it. The accusation makes his blood boil, makes him fucking seethe. He’s had a long day, had to deal with bullshit after more bullshit at work, and the already tenuous handle he had on his emotions has finally snapped. If Dean’s spoiling for a fight, then that’s what Cas is going to give him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 156





	in too deep

Cas is reading through the emails on his phone as he turns the keys to their door and steps in. He’s toeing off his shoes when Dean speaks, his low and cold voice puncturing the quiet of the apartment and effectively scaring the ever-loving shit out of Cas. 

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Cas jumps, phone almost falling out of his fumbling fingers. His hand flies up to his hammering heart, and he squints up to see his boyfriend sitting in an armchair, broad frame silhouetted by the flickering screen of the tv, the only source of light in the room. “Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Dean tips back what looks like a glass of dark liquor, swallowing the remaining dregs in one gulp. “Answer the fucking question,” he commands, and in his voice, Cas could practically hear the snarl that mars his handsome features. 

“Work dinner. I told you about it, remember? And why the hell is it so dark in here? You’re going to hurt your eyes, always squinting in the dark like that.” 

Cas flicks the light on, watches as brightness floods their living room. Dean’s green eyes are trained on him with an intensity that Cas has no idea what to do with, lips set in a mirthless, venomous line, light brows furrowed dangerously. He stands up slowly, long limbs moving with a purposeful, predatory grace as he takes the five steps that separate him from Cas. He stops when he’s directly in front of him, and Cas thinks that their height difference was never more apparent than it is right then, as Dean looms over him with an obvious, inexplicable anger that Cas can’t even begin to account for. 

They’re face to face, and Cas can tell there’s something dangerous brewing, bubbling just under the surface of Dean’s skin, and he has no idea how to prepare for it. 

“Work dinner, huh? That what they’re calling it these days?” Dean sneers derisively.

Cas frowns, tips his head to the side. “I mean, what else would you call having a meal whilst discussing work related matters?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Dean warns. “I saw you, Cas. At the restaurant by our old place. Had a job across the street.”

Cas’ eyes narrow at Dean’s accusatory tone. “Yes, that _was_ where the dinner was held.”

“I fucking _saw_ you, Cas!” Dean explodes. “Getting real chummy with that schmuck in the suit and tie beside you. I saw how your hand disappeared under the fucking table!”

“What schmuck?” Cas is dumbfounded, wheels spinning rapidly in his brain. He tries to recall the events of the night he’d just had, replays it all in his head so he could understand which part Dean had misconstrued. They’d all been in suit and ties, a bunch of boring business types that droned on in monotone voices and looked out with dead eyes. But Cas supposed he had chatted more to the man sitting beside him than the rest, finding in him the only conversation that didn’t make him want to stab himself. However, the idea that anything happened further than that is nothing short of ridiculous. “You mean Inias? You know he’s a work friend, Dean.”

Dean is practically vibrating with anger, his face a roiling storm cloud. “You tryna play me for a fool? I see how tight you’ve gotten lately with your buddy, _Inias_. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you texting him every fucking chance you get.”

Cas shakes his head incredulously, puts up a halting hand between Dean’s simmering rage and his own rising irritation. “Wait…are you really accusing me of cheating on you right now?” 

Dean’s eyes harden as he scoffs jeeringly. “Don’t pull the innocent act on me now, Cas. I’m not blind. I see the way he fucking looks at you.”

Cas brings a hand to his forehead, rubs it roughly as he feels the beginnings of a headache simmer behind his eyelids. He moves away from under Dean’s oppressive stare, shouldering past him so he could go to the kitchen and grab himself a glass of water, needing a minute to decide how he was going to handle the stupid shit his boyfriend is currently throwing at him. Because this whole thing _is_ fucking stupid, Cas thinks. The very idea that Cas would possibly ever risk jeopardising their relationship is straight up laughable. But Cas knows what the root of the problem is, understands Dean’s darkest insecurities. He recognises his boyfriend’s deep-rooted belief that he isn’t worthy of love, a belief that manifests itself into toxic behaviour, a tendency to lash out, to push away what he thinks he doesn’t deserve. He’s been through the grinder with Dean about this multiple times before, has always tried to reassure him of their profound bond, of Cas’ everlasting love and loyalty, whenever those insecurities reared their ugly heads. But Dean’s jealousy and possessive behaviour have been reaching an all-time high lately, and at this point, Cas is just fucking sick of it. The accusation makes his blood boil, makes him fucking seethe. He’s had a long day, had to deal with bullshit after more bullshit at work, and the already tenuous handle he had on his emotions has finally snapped. If Dean’s spoiling for a fight, then that’s what Cas is going to give him. 

He stomps purposefully over to Dean so they stood toe to toe, lips turned up scornfully, fist clenched tightly at his sides. He lifts that fist up to Dean’s broad chest and shoves roughly. “You are fucking _delusional_ , you know that?” he snaps.

Dean is implanted on the floor like a boulder in a stream, barely stirring with the force of Cas’ push. He only leans in further, and Cas can recognise the danger that glints threateningly in his eyes, can feel his hot breath against his skin as he speaks. “So you’re telling me I imagined the way you were laughing at every fucking thing he said like a little school girl?”

Cas can physically feel himself start to lose it, but the knowledge of it does nothing to help pull him back from the edge. Dean has a unique way of pushing his every button, of driving him up the fucking wall with the absurd shit he says and does. And Cas _knows_ that it’s absurd, knows that he shouldn’t indulge such behaviour because it only encourages it, but his grasp on rationality quickly fades whenever Dean opens his stupid mouth and spouts his stupid bullshit, and Cas is once again pulled into a screaming match that he can never avoid. Cas swears that he was sane before he met Dean, but four years with his crazy boyfriend has fucked with his brain chemistry so thoroughly that any sanity he might’ve possessed before was effectively flushed down the toilet, along with his dignity. 

“Oh, I laughed at something he said!” he yells mockingly. “That must mean I’m fucking him, right?” Cas grabs at the collars of Dean’s flannel and gives a harder shove against Dean’s shoulders, causing Dean to stumble backwards slightly. They’re both breathing heavy now, chests rising and falling rapidly with the anger that courses hot through their veins. “Because I’m such a fucking slut that I need to hop on every dick I come in contact with, _right_? Is that really what you think of me?”

Dean shrugs, mouth sneering as he comes closer so their foreheads are almost touching, rising to his full height so he’s staring down at Cas, aggressively crowding his space. “Well, I don’t know, Cas, you’ve been a cockwhore since I met you. I remember the way you couldn’t fuckin’ _wait_ to sit on it the first time I took you out.”

Cas uses both hands this time to shove at Dean, his fists beating continuously at his chest with a righteous frenzy that punctuates his furious words. “That’s right, dean! All I fucking want is a thick, throbbing dick in me, it doesn’t matter whose! Is that what you want to hear? I’m so fucking greedy for it, I’d cheat on you to fucking get it!

Dean grabs Cas’ wrists with a growl, halting their frenetic onslaught with an iron-clad grip. His eyes are hard and feverish, lips darkened to crimson as his chest heaves noticeably beneath his grey v-neck. “The _fuck_ did you just say to me?” Dean hisses. 

Cas doesn’t deign to reply, only tries to wrench his hands free from Dean’s grasp, but he knows he’s no physical match for Dean. So he stares back defiantly, panting heavily, his glare fierce and scathing as he looks up at Dean through the dark tufts of hair that had fallen against his forehead in their scuffle, the challenge in his eyes transparent. Cas watches Dean’s nose flare in aggravation, feels his fingers dig deeper into the bones of his wrists and knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow. But still, they stare each other down, their gazes wilful and unrelenting, both of them refusing to be the one to back down first. 

They stand like that for a minute, Dean appraising Cas with a raised, expectant eyebrow and pursed lips, and Cas knows that Dean recognises the open dare broadcasted across Cas’ hardened features. Then Dean nods once, just a small incline of the head, like maybe he’s conceding defeat, and the tight hold he has on Cas suddenly disappeares. The change in Dean is instantaneous as a severe sort of calm steals over him, completely overtaking that hot, roaring wrath that had been rattling inside of him only moments before. Cas knows he can’t trust it, understands that this fight is far from over. He’s intimately familiar with that look Dean is now wearing, the one that orders more than it asks, the one that takes what it wants from him, how and when it wants it. Cas thinks that this version of Dean, silent and menacingly still, is a lot more intimidating than the Dean that was all clenched fists and gritted teeth and shouted words. The former is too unpredictable, his calm too vacant, a façade that only temporarily keeps that explosive anger at bay, like containing a thunderstorm in a glass jar, before it breaks free again, more violent and tumultuous than before. Cas feels a rush of something like trepidation shoot up his spine, can’t help the loud _gulp_ he makes at the change. 

The stretching silence has thickened the air between, and now it’s cloying, fraught with a tension coiled so tight, just the sound of Dean voice snaps it. 

“Fine, okay,” Dean says, voice gone velvety smooth and scarily detached. “Get on your knees.”

Cas’ stops breathing at the words, and croaks out a meek, “what?”

“You heard me. You’re so desperate for some cock, and I’m gonna give you exactly what you want. Get on your knees, I won’t say it again.”

Cas’ breath hitches, his heart going about a mile a minute for a reason that has nothing to do with anger. He doesn’t even think twice, doesn’t even process it when he instantly drops down between Dean’s jean-clad legs, knees hitting the ground so fast as if they had lead weights attached to them. His body is on autopilot as his veins begin to strum with roiling anticipation that ignites his every nerve, makes the blood rapidly rush from his brain and pool into his nether regions. 

Dean is unbuckling his belt before Cas’ eyes, big, thick hands unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down the zipper with deft fingers, and Cas tracks every little movement, totally mesmerised. Dean shoves his jeans and boxers down in one swift manoeuvre, shucks them off to one side, and his hardened cock springs free mere inches from Cas face, making Cas gasp. It’s thick and long and so agonisingly beautiful, and Cas’ mouth goes unbearably dry. Dean pulls at his erection a few times, slowly, tantalisingly, and the view is so fucking erotic, Cas can’t look away. He drinks in the delicious sight in front of him with wide, greedy eyes, feels the heady, intoxicating scent of Dean wash over him as his own cock strains uncomfortably against the confines of his pants. 

“This what you want?” Dean asks thickly, still stroking his cock right in front of Cas’ face, the tip of it in line with his nose.

Cas wrenches his eyes from Dean’s thick cock for a brief second as he flicks his gaze up to Dean’s face, nodding quickly. His hands twitch by his sides, aching to reach out and touch, but he reluctantly stills them, waits for permission. 

“Use your words,” Dean orders. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” Cas whispers. The ability to properly vocalise eludes him, which is understandable since he currently has a huge dick staring him dead in the face.

Dean makes a noise at the back of his throat that sounds like approval, halting the enticing strokes of his cock. He steps closer, lines his shaft up with the side of Cas’ face and then slaps his cheek with it, once, twice, three times, the sound of it hitting Cas’ flesh ringing loudly around the room, before he switches over to the other cheek and does the same thing. Then he starts to rub the hot, wet tip teasingly along Cas’ flushed skin. There’s a sticky trail of precum where Dean slowly presses it along the closed seam of Cas’ lips, traces the straight bridge of his nose with it, dragging it up all the way to his forehead until the entire underside of it is sitting flush against the centre of Cas’ face, Dean’s balls hitting his chin. Cas lets his eyelids flutter shut and savours the heat and the weight of it along his skin, and his mouth floods with hungry saliva. He longs desperately to dart his tongue out and lap at it, to get the salty, delicious flavour of Dean’s cock against his taste buds before he loses his fucking mind. God, the temptation is so great, but he knows that isn’t what Dean wants from him right now, and so he holds back, allows Dean to set the pace, to take Cas wherever he wants him to go. 

“I love the way you look with my cock on your face like this, baby,” Dean murmurs, his other hand carding through Cas’ dark hair tenderly, thumb rubbing loving circles over his cheekbone. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Dean doesn’t move back as he takes the shaft in his grip again, lifting it completely off Cas’ face. He pulls his length up so his cock is pointing to the ceiling and his balls are completely exposed. Then he pushes his balls against the space between Cas’ nose and mouth, letting them just rest there against Cas’ lips. 

“Open up,” Dean commands, the low, thick sound of his voice making Cas’ cock twitch interestedly. 

Cas obeys eagerly, tipping his chin up and darting his tongue out so he could have better access, and Dean lowers his ball sac into his waiting mouth. Cas mouths at it gently, licks it greedily, tries to taste as much of it as he can as Dean rolls his balls around on the flat of his tongue, dipping one side first and then the other. He rubs them into Cas’ taste buds, and Cas moans hungrily at the heavy weight of them in his mouth, at their thick, musky scent, until they’re dripping with Cas’ saliva, glimmering deliciously under their living room light. 

Dean pulls off after a few minutes, steps back so he could better survey Cas’ face, and Cas almost whines at the loss. Dean looks down at him with hard eyes and flushed cheeks as he begins to slowly, languidly jerk his cock. Cas is once again absorbed by the movement, looking up with enamoured eyes at Dean’s cock, long and _hard_ right in front of his face, and he can’t help the hungry lick of his lips, he’s fucking starving for a taste. 

Dean notices the dart of his tongue, gives a short laugh that sounds a little derisive to Cas’ ears, but he’s too far gone to care. “Look how fucking eager you are for my cock. You wanna suck me down, baby? Wanna have me down your throat so you can taste me?”

“ _Please_ , Dean,” he all but begs. 

“Of course you do. You’ve always been such a cockwhore for me, haven’t you, baby?” Dean murmurs, petting Cas’ head affectionately like a puppy. 

Cas moans in agreement as Dean starts to press the leaking tip of his cock into Cas’ welcoming mouth. 

“Keep it open, just like that. You’re always so fucking good for me, Cas.”

Cas keens with the praise as Dean rubs his cock experimentally against Cas’ wet, pink tongue, and Cas’ answering groan is guttural and thick with want as he’s finally allowed the flavour he’s been yearning for. Then Dean starts to poke in further using shallow thrusts, all heavy and gentle and slow on his tongue, each time going a little deeper until he finally sheathes himself all the way in. Cas’ nose is buried in the curly tufts of hair at Dean’s groin, and the tip of Dean’s cock is engulfed by the back of his throat, Dean’s other hand tangled firmly in Cas’ hair so he can’t pull back, even if he wanted to. Cas focuses on relaxing, tries not to choke as Dean just keeps his cock there, not moving as he simply enjoys the wet, promising heat of his mouth. He hears Dean’s groan from above, deep and drawn out like it was wrenched from the pit of his belly, feels the shudder of pleasure that wracks through his long body, and Cas’s own cock jerks achingly in his pants at the sensation. 

The pressure on Cas’ throat eventually relents as Dean pulls away from the depths of his mouth but keeps his cock sitting heavy on Cas’ tongue. Cas heaves a little, tries to catch his breath as he swallows the excess saliva that has pooled in his mouth around Dean’s cock. The flavour of it, of Dean, is entrancing as it slides down his throat, and he’s already burning for more. Dean gives him a few moments to recover before he’s ready to go again.

“Start sucking, baby,” he instructs, ruffling Cas’ hair like a well-loved pet.

Cas doesn’t need to be told twice as he pulls back and starts to suckle at the tip, moaning deeply. He finally brings his touch starved hands up, grabbing at the base of Dean’s cock as he begins to lick a long, slow line down the shaft. He sucks sloppy, wet kisses up and down along the length of it, humming incoherent reverences against the hard flesh and hearing Dean’s answering groans float down to him. His mouth works greedily as he takes Dean down to the base of him, lips stretched taut around Dean’s fat cock as they slip eagerly down the shaft, and his hands fly up to grip at Dean’s hips to steady himself. He hollows out his cheeks and starts to bob his head voraciously up and down Dean’s slickened cock, hungrily gobbling down his length, his tongue lapping interestedly against the thick, throbbing vein that lines the back it. He loses himself in the sensation of Dean in his mouth, closes his eyes in pure bliss as he worships Dean’s cock with an all-encompassing, single-minded devotion, all the while thinking that if he were to die right now, he would surely die a fucking ecstatic man. 

Dean generously allows Cas to have his fill of his beautiful cock, lets him milk it wantonly, tongue dipping ravenously into the leaking slit at his spongy head, gratefully swallowing down every drop of precum he can wring out of him. And then suddenly, both of Dean’s hands are in Cas’ hair, and he’s grabbing it roughly, halting Cas’ eager bobbing. He holds Cas’ head steady, keeps him there as he pulls his cock almost all the way out of Cas’ mouth. Then without warning, he’s slamming it back in again. Cas keeps his jaw loose as Dean starts to thrust in and out like that, building up a harsh, brutal rhythm with the successive snaps of his hips that makes Cas gag, leaves him gasping for air as Dean savagely hits the back of his throat over and over again. He fucks into Cas’ mouth with vigour, balls slapping against Cas’ chin with each rapid, powerful drive of his pelvis, desperately fighting to cram his cock all the way down Cas’ gullet. 

The sides of Cas’ mouth are leaking with spit, strings of it dribbling lewdly down his chin, and Cas closes his eyes against the onslaught, completely relinquishes control as he lets Dean just take and take from him until he’s satisfied. He fucking loves it when Dean uses him like this, when he forcefully takes pleasure in Cas’ body, wringing out his own orgasm from Cas’ holes like that’s what they were made for. Like they’re his to use and abuse whenever he wants. And they are. 

Cas’ dick is so painfully swollen in his pants, begging for some kind of friction. To steady himself, he keeps one hand on Dean’s hip, blunt nails digging into the flesh there. Then he quickly undoes his pants with the other, slides a fumbling hand inside as Dean continues to pound mercilessly into his mouth, death grip still in his hair. He wraps a fist around himself and starts fucking into his own hand with quick, inelegant jerks of his hips that make his eyes roll into the back of his head with pure ecstasy. He groans loudly, garbles incoherent gibberish around Dean’s merciless cock as he loses himself in the feeling, checking out of reality completely as he feels himself dangle tantalisingly over the precipice of euphoria. Before he knows it, he’s falling, falling, falling, and his come is spurting all over his shaking fingers, coating his thighs and the patch of floor between Dean’s feet.

He hears Dean let out a long, deep moan from above and Cas knows that he had been closely observing him inexpertly come all over himself like a teenage boy, and that he likes what he saw. He gives a few more vicious thrusts, rams his cock right into Cas’ larynx with violent precision over and over before his rhythm begins to stutter. He pulls out of Cas’ mouth, and the only thing keeping Cas upright right then is Dean’s firm grip on the back of his head as Cas heaves and sputters gracelessly, chin slumping wearily against his chest. Dean starts to stroke rapidly at his spit-slick shaft, tipping Cas’ head up to the ceiling, the fingers tangled in his hair holding him right where he wants him. Then with a filthy, guttural groan, Dean is coming, long, white streaks of his nut shooting out of the fat, red tip and landing on Cas’ face, striping his eyelids, his hair, along his nose, across his lips. 

Cas sighs contentedly as he’s showered with Dean’s seed, smiles lazily as he darts his tongue out to lap at the hot liquid along the bow of his lips, swallowing it down. Dean’s green eyes are practically glowing with overwhelming emotion as he stares down at Cas, fingers still entwined in his hair, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he rides out the subsiding waves of his climax. 

“This is where you belong,” Dean tells him, deep voice full of an authority that almost has Cas whining at his boyfriend’s feet like a needy cat. “On your knees, worshipping my cock. Painted with my come.”

“Yes,” Cas breathes, throat raw and voice practically non-existent.

“Say it.”

He wipes the come streaking over his eye so he could see Dean better, licking it off his finger. “This is where I belong.”

“You’re mine, Cas. Not fucking Inias’, not anybody else’s. Mine.” 

“I’m yours, Dean.”

Dean falls to his knees in front of Cas, cradles both sides of his face with a heartbreaking tenderness that’s completely at odds with what they’d been doing only minutes before. His gaze bores into Cas’, green eyes roaming the artwork he’s created on the canvas of Cas’ face, and the sheer affection, the love that Cas sees in them almost floors him. Dean leans forward and presses his plush lips against his, disregarding completely the come that still streaks Cas’ face, the saliva drying at the edges of his mouth, as he tastes his own intoxicating flavour on Cas’ tongue. Something like a whimper, needy and desperate, sounds in the back of Dean’s throat as Cas parts his lips to let him in, and it wrenches Cas’ heart.

“I’m yours, too, baby,” he breathes against Cas’ lips. “Forever.” 

“I know,” Cas whispers. 

“I’m sorry I get so crazy sometimes,” Dean says, lips trailing softly on the underside of Cas’ jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Too perfect to be with someone like me. I’m scared one day you’ll realise that and leave me for one of those corporate fucking assholes you work with.”

Cas shakes his head languorously, tilts his neck back further so Dean can mouth softly at his thoroughly fucked out throat. “I could never leave you. I’m addicted to you.”

Dean surges up and kisses him again, knocks the breath right out of him, whispers words of love and devotion into his lips, promises of forever spilling fervently from his mouth, and Cas swallows them all down eagerly, tucks them away deep in his belly so he can carry them around with him wherever he goes. 

When Dean pulls back, Cas can’t help but keel forward without the support, forehead falling tiredly into Dean’s shoulder. He feels boneless, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, his body both completely satiated and overwhelmingly exhausted. He nuzzles drowsily into Dean’s neck, breathes in the enthralling smell of his skin. Dean wraps his arms around him securely and easily hefts them up to their feet. 

“I’m tired,” Cas mumbles.

Dean presses soft pecks into Cas’ hair, lips moving lovingly along the side of his face. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s clean you up and get you to bed.”

Dean supports his spent weight without much effort, shuffling Cas’ useless feet to their bedroom and pulling back the covers of their bed invitingly. Cas falls face first right in the centre, humming in contentment as he sinks gratefully into the plush mattress.

Dean groans and then chuckles from behind him. “Ugh, you just got come all over your pillow, Cas. Turn over so I can clean you up.”

If Cas could form coherent sentences right then he would’ve asked Dean what was so wrong with having come on his pillow, but all he manages instead is an unintelligible grumble that gets muffled by his pillow.

He feels Dean’s warm fingers at his side, lightly flipping him over onto his back. Cas’ eyelids are heavy when Dean reaches to tug off his jeans and boxers, and Cas tries to help him out by lifting his legs, and instead only ends up cuffing the side of Dean’s head with his shin, hard. Dean grunts at the impact and grabs Cas’ legs, holds them down firmly as he pulls the sticky garments off his body. Cas mumbles out some sort of garbled apology, and then Dean’s there at his groin with a wet cloth, gently wiping away the drying matter that coats Cas’ inner thighs and pelvis. Dean then starts to swipe tenderly at Cas’ face with the cloth, soft, soothing caresses that make his limbs feel impossibly heavy, his consciousness drifting slowly away from him with every loving touch, every brush of Dean’s fingertips along his skin. 

The last thing he feels before he’s pulled under is a soft, lingering press of lips to his forehead, and he falls asleep to the melodic sound of his boyfriend’s deep voice murmuring against his skin, “love you so much, Cas.”


End file.
